Despite the new position and all the stress it involved, he wouldn’t give it up for all the money in the world. It was better than being in Bumfuck Glendale where fuck all happened and members left the club like they had a bad dose of the clap. They couldn’t build alliances; he and Hardy were pretty much on their own. They had no respect and Aztecas Infierno ran all over them like they were a couple of bitches just waiting to be spread over and fucked on a daily basis.
Hardy grabbed his shoulder, knocking him out of past memories with a crash.
“Here she comes now,” he said casually.
Ronan glanced up to watch his gorgeous angel sashay her ass down the stairs from the VIP room and his dick instantly got hard. It didn’t matter what he did to his body, he was never too wasted he couldn’t fuck his own chick.
She didn’t look nervous or afraid but something was going on behind those honey-amber eyes. Her smile, genuine and infectious, immediately put him at ease but he wondered what that taco-eating motherfucker had said to her. Not that it mattered; once they were back at the clubhouse, it would be discussed.
“You ready to get out of here?” He grabbed her waist as soon as she was within distance and held her close.
“Yeah.” She turned toward Hardy. “Shit’s about to get real ugly and we need to prepare for it. This can’t wait. I have to speak with you two tonight.”
“Yeh, okay. Tal’s got some shit ta handle with that fuckin’ loser sperm donor so we’re good. We’ll go to chapel as soon as we get back—”
“Only this stays between you, Ronan and me—all right? I’m not tryin’ to be a bitch or put the club in danger but the fewer people who know what’s goin’ down, the better, you got me?”
Hardy brusquely nodded his head. “No worries, babe. Everything’s gonna be fine.”
Ronan knew Naomi, inside and out; the statement Hardy had just spoken couldn’t have been farther from the truth and the worst part? He didn’t even know it.
Ronan stood in the large office used for chapel with Hardy and Naomi.
They’d interrupted Chemist—aka Colin Shaughnessy—their resident drug expert. He’d received a shipment of heroin from one of their potential new connections and was using the room to test the levels of the drug’s potency.
“Don’t we have a fuckin’ lab where you can do that shit?” Ronan questioned in an annoyed tone.
“Yeah, we do . . . only Burns is cookin’ and I don’t fuck with the lab when he’s doin’ his thing.”
Hardy gazed at Ronan, his crystal blue eyes cold as he looked back at Chemist. “Wait a minute. We got the White Knights MC for our meth connection—what the fook are we doin’ cookin’ our own shite for? Is that bastard tryin’ to blow up this motherfuckin’ clubhouse?”
Chemist gathered his samples methodically, ignoring the harsh glare from his new president. “I thought you two were up to speed with what’s going down around here. Listen, the meth the WKs cook mostly is transferred either up north or to Southern Cali. They stopped dealin’ to us after Burns came over from their club. His old lady is Paiute—one of the local Native American tribes indigenous to the area of Clark County.
“His first old lady was white but his second wife isn’t. Anyway, they’re a white supremacist biker club and . . . well, he was kinda fucked when he fell for an Indian so you know how that goes.”
“No, actually I fuckin’ don’t,” Hardy replied as he crossed his arms against his firm pecs. “So, why don’t you enlighten me, son?”
“Listen, the WKs were more pissed off about losin’ one of their best cookers. Burns goes way back—knew both Nel and Brad when they all went to UNLV together. He’s cool people. Been with the LV Saints for about eight years now. Never had an issue with him. He just likes to smoke his peyote and cook meth. He’s not violent and when shit goes down, we make sure he and his family are out of the picture.”
Ronan sat down. “So, everyone respects him and he’s not considered to be a threat in any way?”
“Yep. Plus he was a shoo-in with both of his parents being one hundred percent Irish. Any other questions you have about Burns, talk to Dizzy. He’s close with him and he trusts the man with his life. There’s nothing out of the ordinary goin’ on what-so-ever.”
“Except we’ve got a meth lab on club property that could blow us all to kingdom come.” Hardy shook his head. “What a clusterfuck. Just get your gear and get the fook out. We got some shit to discuss—for our ears only and what not. Do your thing and report back how strong that shit is, got it?”
Chemist nodded before he left the room and closed the door behind him.
“A fucking meth lab? Shit twice and fucking die. Why the fuck didn’t Pops ever say anythin’ about it?” Ronan lit a cigarette and dragged heavily. “I mean . . . those places aren’t safe, are they? Everyone knows that shit is explosive especially if you’ve seen a couple of episodes of Breaking Bad.”
Naomi chuckled. “Meth labs actually aren’t that dangerous if you know what you’re doin’. Burns has to be in his late forties if he knows Nel and Brad. The guy has been cookin’ for a long time. Amateurs get blown up in meth labs—not people who know how to properly cook and have been doin’ it for decades.”
“What’s goin’ on, darlin’? You sounded like this shit was urgent. We’ll discuss meth labs later.”
Ronan stared at his old lady who kept looking from him to Hardy. “Fernando wants another meet. A week from now. He’s willing to give up Carlito—says he doesn’t need ‘em to keep Aztecas Infierno in the black. But . . . and it’s a big but . . . he wants to know Eve’s end game.”
Hardy’s fingers pressed against his temples. “How the bloody hell are we supposed to find that shit out?”
“He doesn’t expect you to—he wants Ronan to do all the leg work. His words, not mine.”
“I can do it.” Ronan breathed loudly. “I’ll contact Trey and see what he can set up. Then I’ll talk to Eve and let her know what’s goin’ on. I wanna know what happens to you if the Feds don’t get what they want. No way are you gonna be tossed out on your ass like a piece of shit. You’ve given the DEA some of the best years of your life and they are gonna own that shit whether they like it or not.”
Naomi chuckled though there was little mirth in her expression. “Eve Kerrigan can do exactly what she wants with me, Ronan. Just remember that when you think about mouthing off to her, all right?”
“It’s true, brother. Just keep your cool when you talk to her. Anything else could seriously fuck up our operation and your old lady’s aspirations of retirement,” Hardy replied cautiously.
Fuck!
He despised it when they both tried to gang up on him, even if they were giving him sound advice.
Eve Kerrigan may have been his half-brother’s mother but he didn’t have to like her. She was the reason why his parents had almost split in the first place even if she did have her own justifications for saving their marriage.
The bitch was the enemy and Ronan would never forget that, no matter how many warnings both Hardy and Naomi decided to dispense with unwanted and unneeded advice. He’d been taking care of himself for a long time now—he sure as fuck didn’t ask for their assistance.
“Looks like this meeting’s over. If it is, I’m tired. I wanna go to bed.”
Naomi nodded her head. “I’ll be right up. I just have to talk to the Prez for a sec . . . it’s personal. Nothing to do with this operation, okay?”
Ronan stood and glared from his old lady to his uncle before he turned and walked out, closing the door behind him.
He would have given anything to be the fly on the wall in chapel but what was the use? If Naomi wanted him to know, she’d tell him—it was as simple as that.
Although he preferred to sleep in his own bed in their comfortable McMansion, it didn’t look like they were going anywhere for the night. He strode up the stairs to the bedroom they shared at the clubhouse, undressed and slid under the covers.
He’d h
ad more than his fair share to drink but he still felt on edge. If Naomi hurried, she’d be rewarded with a lot more than a goodnight kiss. However that never happened. Ronan’s mind cleared from the mess of that day and before he knew it, he was out like a light.
Eve continued to stare at him with those cold, remorseless hazel-green eyes as he wolfed down a breakfast of steak, eggs over easy and hash browns. Not the most healthiest of choices on the menu but he definitely craved meat that day.
“I’m confused,” their resident Fed continued as she nursed a cup of coffee and a fruit salad. “What exactly does Fernando want to know and why is he so easily willing to give up his nephew? It doesn’t make any sense.”
Ronan chewed and swallowed before he swigged from his orange juice. “How the fuck should I know? I’m just tellin’ ya what has been repeated to me, all right?”
She sipped from a cup of coffee before she shook her head and glanced at him with a look of admonishment and pity. “I assumed you knew but it’s obvious you don’t.”
“Know what?”
“It’s not my place to inform you.” Eve stood and threw down a couple twenty-dollar bills. “What ever secrets you and Naomi share about her personal life are not mine to divulge. All I will say is that you should make sure you have her absolute trust and the truth before you send her out there into a den of wolves. She’ll come out of this alive—we know that much—but will she be completely unscathed? I don’t know. A more important question is will you?”
Ronan glared at the Fed with loathing. “What the hell are you talking about? You haven’t told me shit about what Fernando wants. Why did we meet up at all if you’re just gonna talk in motherfuckin’ riddles? I’m no closer to finding out what the bastard needs to know than I was when you sat the fuck down.”
Even leaned close to him, her hazel-green eyes cold and heartless. “He wants what we can’t give him, Ronan. It’s something your old lady knows about but she has not divulged it to you. Not only has she wasted my time but yours as well. When you get home, ask her about it. If she’s honest with you then you know you have a keeper but if she lies to you . . . let the chips fall where they may. As far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing worth saving and Fernando can do whatever he likes.”
She breathed softly. “He can’t provide us with anything we don’t already know about. Giving him one shred of information is pointless at this stage in the game. Aztecas Infierno is going down—with or without his help. At this juncture, I would be more worried about saving what I loved than helping out a cartel if you know what I mean?”
“Yeah but you’re speakin’ in riddles. Naomi doesn’t know anything. You think I wouldn’t burn the fuckin’ world down to save her? You’re dead wrong. I would kill, maim, and destroy anyone and anything that tried to come between us. There are no boundaries to what I would or wouldn’t do for her. You got me?”
“Unfortunately, I do.” Eve’s face softened and the contrition she felt was palpable, even to someone like him. “I’ve loved and lost too. My only daughter . . . and my son were sacrificed all for this so-called battle of truth and honor. I’ve given up my whole life for my career so you can’t educate me about love and loss. Been there, done that—hell, I own the goddamn t-shirt.
“Fernando is grasping at straws. His motivations are purely self-serving and completely narcissistic at this point. If you truly want everything to work out for you, the club and Naomi’s career, you would consider the situation in those terms and stop worrying about what we’re going to do to a known criminal organization. They are being investigated under RICO—there’s information that is on a need to know basis—even I’m not privy to everything in this case. My superiors aren’t asinine or oblivious to the link that exists between the Lucifer’s Saints and myself.”
Ronan finished his breakfast and stood. “I don’t understand why he would send us on this goose chase. And why is he requesting yet another meeting in a few days?”
They both walked out of the restaurant together in silence.
He strode directly to his Harley and got on as Eve approached him again.
“Fernando is known to enjoy his own personal mind-fucks—if I may be so blunt. Like I have repeatedly stated, talk to Naomi. You two are extremely close, are you not? She’s your old lady and yet, you haven’t put a ring on her finger. You ever wonder why you haven’t proposed? She knows all your secrets and you’ve been candidly honest with her . . . but can you honestly say the same? Has she been completely and utterly honest with you?”
Ronan didn’t bother to answer her question because they both knew the answer even if it remained unspoken.
Naomi was his heart; the one woman he would take a bullet for and not regret it for one second. However, when all was said and done, he didn’t really know her. Not really.
Her secrets were an enigma to him; a part of her past she begged him not to ask about with bright eyes, a hot body and downright mind blowing sex. She avoided huge parts of her past with a passion. She didn’t truly want him to know all of her.
He realized Eve was right—he didn’t know her nearly as well as she knew him.
And that small piece of the puzzle troubled him more than anything Fernando could ever threaten to do to him or his club.
Chapter Four
Naomi
By the time Ronan came back from his meeting with Eve, my heart thundered in my chest and I felt like my whole body was on tenterhooks. He pulled into the compound and backed up his custom, black and silver Harley-Davidson CVO Road Glide Ultra. Usually, he only used it for long hauls when I accompanied him. However, his flashy black CVO Street Glide was still being worked on by one of the Vegas charter’s mechanics due to issues, which had arisen at the last minute.
As he kicked the stand down and turned off the bike, his eyes were unreadable behind a pair of blacker-than-black Ray-Bans. In fact, he seemed beyond pissed off yet he hadn’t acted on his rage yet, and that was a particularly frightening part about the whole situation.
I felt bold as I strode to him. Hardy had a feeling it wouldn’t go well and my breakfast had been one bloody Mary too many. My head swam a bit but in a good way. I wasn’t too drunk I would slur my words but that was no longer my main concern as he ripped off his sunglasses and grabbed me by one of my arms. His grip was forceful though not rough but my nerves were shot to shit.
Had Eve finally told him the truth?
Did he know about Fernando and me?
Our fucked up relationship and how I hadn’t disclosed it to him though he’d kept absolutely no secrets from me. I knew everything about Ronan—he was an open book. Yet parts of my life remained closed off and verboten to even ask about let alone discuss with him.
It was only a matter of time before everything came out but what could I say? I didn’t want to ruin what we had with the awful truth.
Ronan had tried for so long to get with me before I let him in and yet, he thought it was for all the wrong reasons. It wasn’t because of who he was or the MC he belonged to—actually, I didn’t care about any of that shit. I was scared my past would come back to bite me on the ass in a big way and if the glint in his cold violet-blue eyes and the way he manhandled me was any indication, I’d been too right.
God how I wished for once I was wrong.
Why hadn’t I listened to my first mind when it told me we could never work out simply because I didn’t have the capacity to tell him the honest to goodness truth about me? How would a relationship ever flourish based on trust and honesty when I’d never heeded either one of those principles as far as we were concerned?
I hated myself right now because protecting my own ass had been more important than my man and the club. I was a disgrace and once Ronan forced the truth from me, he would deplore me just as much—if not more. I’d knowingly lied to him and damned the consequences because there was always the next day and the next. I’d delayed the truth for as long as I could and now my time had run out.
Time to
shit or get off the pot.
“You wanna tell me what’s going on and why you’re manhandling me?” I questioned though there wasn’t a trace of anger or fear in my words.
Ronan whipped me around to face him and my footing faltered though he caught me before I could fall to the ground. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that to you. It isn’t your fuckin’ fault Ms. Fancy-Foot-Up-Her-Ass FBI Agent won’t give us shit to go on. We’re goin’ into this meeting blind, babe, and that shit scares the ever-loving crap out of me. How can I protect you when I don’t know what to protect you from or who exactly?”
“Wait,” I began as my mind raced with scenarios and all of them involved a cryptic Eve telling Ronan he would have to ask me what was going on.
The guy wasn’t asinine by any stretch of the imagination and although he might have been a biker and one of the crudest people in the world at times, there was a reason why he was Hardy’s second-in-command. He could have been a Fed himself. He knew how to be subtle and non-threatening when he had to be—right before he went in for the kill.
Most of his brothers never saw that side of him but both Hardy and I’d seen plenty. Ronan had begun questioning me and although I was DEA, it’d gone right over my head it was me who was in the hot seat at the moment—not him.
“Eve told you nothing.” It was a statement, not a question; I wanted to take back control if possible but I knew secretly, the battle was lost on my end before it’d officially begun.
He shook his head though his violet-blue eyes never left mine. “All she said was Fernando had his own reasons for requesting a second meeting. Be careful and get all the information we could but we were on our own. The Feds aren’t going to help us, not unless we can come up with intel that aids their RICO case against Aztecas Infierno.”
“I don’t understand—they aren’t interested in Carlito at all?”
Ride To Vengeance (A Rough Riders MC Novel #3): A Rough Riders MC Novel #3 (The Rough Riders MC Series) Page 5